


Free pass (Insta models count right?)

by Angel_Wings14



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Simon Snow, Boys Kissing, Gay Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Instagram, It swings both ways, M/M, Party Games, Simon's Sword, boys in makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Wings14/pseuds/Angel_Wings14
Summary: Baz is obsessed with this Instagram account... just a beautiful boy posing with his sword in the sunshine.' “There’s this one guy I follow,” I started. “He poses with a sword in different places and honestly, if he were into men, I would let him have a go at me any day. If I were in a relationship I would want a pass for him.” '
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 21
Kudos: 192





	Free pass (Insta models count right?)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a little while ago but I figure I may as well post it. Enjoy :)

I stumbled across his Instagram a while ago, scrolling through the explore tab on my phone late at night when I couldn’t sleep. It was an artistic shot, colourful smoke layered in the foreground and there in the middle, atop a craggy outcrop, was a beautiful bronze boy, no _man_ , holding a shining silver sword that caught the sunlight mid swing. I clicked through a number of similar shots, clearly all taken on the same day at different locations in what looked like a mountain pass. The last caught my attention though. It was less staged than the others, a candid close up of the mans face smiling beatifically at an unknown point off to the side of the frame. His face was dotted with moles and there was a ruddy hue to his cheeks and his hair gleamed like gold. It took my breath away for the natural beauty of it.

I clicked through to his main page, SnowSword, and there were more shots of him posing artistically with his sword in various locations. In some he was wearing loose exercise wear, but in others he wore costumes. Cloaks and chainmail and, in one that would become my favourite for a while, a princely get up complete with a corseted waistcoat. The first time I saw that one my mouth dried up. There were also videos of him swinging the sword in graceful arcs, feet gliding smoothly along the ground, and videos of him talking through his warm ups and drill practises, and more videos still of LARP montages that showed many close ups of his face as he ran through whatever woods they were playing in. These were some of my most watched videos because his laughter in them was contagious. Whenever I had a bad day, I could count on Snow to cheer me up.

I had been following the page for a few weeks before a new post came up on my feed from him. It was brightly colourful in contrast with the sombre artsy accounts I usually followed, the kinds that liked to post in black and white and sepia tone. It was another photo shoot, this time in a field of wildflowers. One was taken from the ground, framing his silhouette against the bright sky with a foreground of daisies and poppies. Another seemed to have been taken from a ladder, or a drone, as the whole shot had no sky at all. I particularly liked the one where Snow was whipping his head around, sword poised by his shoulder, sweat droplets suspended in the air as they flicked off his forehead. He clearly worked hard in this shoot if he was sweating so much, which should have been gross, but he made it work. (It was working for me at least.) The last shot was just him laying down among the flowers, sword arm flung out. If there was blood it would look like he had been slain, but on closer inspection there was a small smile on his flushed face.

The description doesn’t say much beyond the location and a link to the photographer, though I enjoy the tags #wildflowers #savethebees. I comment with a simple “Stunning”. It is loved by the SnowSword account almost immediately. Good, he should know how good these photos are.

It is yet another few weeks before the next upload, and to my delight it was another LARP video. I watched it in its entirety. Snow was once again running through a forest with the foam sword he uses for these events. He always speaks in character, so he was talking into the camera about the evil witch he’s heading off to vanquish. It’s adorable. Off camera, a high female voice whined.

“Simon, can we go to the water tent now,” she said. “Pleeeeeease.”

Snow scowled to where she must be off camera. He’s always very careful not to have other people recognisably in his videos. Occasionally there will be a sleeve or another set of feet running, but never any faces.

“Who is Simon,” he asked, haughtily. “I am Sir Snow of the Eastern Realm. Besides we cannot quit now, there are enemies to thwart and plots afoot.”

I laughed at his role playing, though my mind felt like it’s tumbling a little. Simon, his name is Simon. The girl huffed off, and the video jumped to Simon letting out a huge battle cry, sword upraised in the hand that it not holding the camera. The camera is quickly jostled from his grip and falls into the leaf litter. After the sounds of battle rage on for half a minute, the camera was once more picked up and held close to Simon’s sweaty face.

“The enemy was too strong,” he panted. “I am dead.”

He pulled a face, tongue outstretched, eyes crossed, then laughed. The video cut off there.

I clicked the heart on the video, noting the park they were playing at in the location tagged was one that I recognised the name of. I must have driven past it before, meaning he was likely close by. He might have even be a student at the university. My stomach swooped a little, but I brushed it off. It’s not like we would ever bump into each other, it was a huge campus and an even bigger city. Just because I had this ridiculous pseudo-celebrity crush on him. It just didn’t do to dwell on such impossibilities.

(And if seeing Snow at my local started occurring in my dreams, well I had no control over that).

I was at my friend Niall’s house. There were a few other people here, though Niall kept insisting this wasn’t a party, just a little get together. No one told whoever was controlling the volume of the music apparently.

A few hours, and a few cups of fruity whiskey punch later, a large chunk of the people gathered round the breakfast bar in the kitchen started to migrate into the living room. I recognised amongst the group my cousin Dev and the girl from my parent’s social club, Agatha. We had spent some awkward childhood parties together, though I wouldn’t call her a friend. But I knew her better than the people left behind, so I followed the group into the other room.

They were sitting in a circle on the floor, probably to start playing some ill-advised game better suited for school children than us as young adults. Still I had had enough alcohol that I sighed and carefully folded myself down next to Dev. It seemed we were playing truth or dare. How original.

There were the usual dares, lap dances and kissing and eating questionable things pulled out the back of Niall’s fridge. I also knew more about these stranger’s sex lives than I never wanted to know. The seemingly quiet girl, Philippa, had been very adventurous in both what she had done and where. Who gets off on the front row of a cinema when the back is darker and more intimate? She said it was more exciting. Whatever.

I didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation though, having never had a boyfriend. I had kissed a handful of people, but they were all dares at parties like this one, so I didn’t think they really counted. When it came to my turn, I decided on truth. I simply couldn’t be bothered to get up from my spot on the floor.

“Ok, who is your celebrity free-pass?” Agatha asked me. It wasn’t as raunchy as the previous truths, for which I was grateful.

“Do Instagram models count?” I blurted out without thought. But Agatha merely smiled and magnanimously said she’d allow it. I knew she had a fairly active Insta presence too. I also knew she used to have a crush on me when we were younger. I wondered if she still did. I was quick to dispel any such thoughts though with my admission.

“There’s this one guy I follow,” I started. “He poses with a sword in different places and honestly, if he were into men, I would let him have a go at me any day. If I were in a relationship I would want a pass for him.”

Agatha’s frown was deep by the time I had finished, but it was more thoughtful than disappointed, which was good.

“What’s his name?” she questioned. The other people in the group had started drifting into their own conversations at this point, my answer outing me but ultimately boring in the face of the previous answers.

“Simon,” I said, before quickly amending, “his handle is SnowSword.”

Agatha’s mouth drops into a dainty o, before snapping shut in a tiny smirk.

“I see,” she said. I wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she was quick to remind me it was my turn to pick the next victim, and the game continued.

The next day I checked my phone, and I had a new Instagram follower.

My stomach dropped. It was SnowSword.

I spent the rest of the day grinning, which scared my flatmates. I was usually living up to the Grimm in my name, but not today.

I couldn’t sleep again. It had been a long few days, and my professors had once again managed to set a number of deadlines at the same time. Of course they never spoke to each other. That would be too efficient.

It was 2am and I felt more awake than ever. I started to scroll through my Instagram feed, for want of something better to do than stare at the ceiling. There were coffee cups and footprints in the sand.

Then there was a new picture of Simon. I nearly dropped my phone on my nose from shock.

He was standing with his sword, as usual, and once more the air was filled with coloured smoke in pink and blue and purple. He was also shirtless which, while not unique to the picture set, was delightful none-the-less. But no, what startled me was the flag draped over his broad shoulders, colours reflecting that of the smoke. And the tags! #BiPride #myswordswingsbothways…

Simon wasn’t straight.

It was like a klaxon going off in my brain.

Simon. Wasn’t. Straight.

Suddenly all my daydreams of meeting Snow and actually having some kind of relationship were that little bit more attainable.

I clicked through the photo set, each perfectly framed as usual. And once again the last was a photo of his face, his sword casually resting against his flag-covered shoulder and stretching out of frame. His tongue was poking out between his teeth, winking cheekily into the lens. I felt like he was winking at me. _Yeah I know you were thinking about me_ , it seemed to say. (Always, Snow. I’m always thinking about you).

I fell into fantasies that that wink actually was for me, which stretched out and grew hazy with the fog of dreams. I woke up in a mess, my sheets damp beneath me and my legs still quivering.

I had a new comment on my latest photo upload. I had been experimenting with makeup again, and had painted smoky rainbows across my eyelids. The colours were bright against my dark skin. The picture was just my face staring into the camera, my hand resting on my cheek, little finger pulling my plum coloured lip down seductively.

Snow had written “Wow. Just wow. Is it hot in here or is it you? ;)”

Holy. Shit.

I liked the comment but I didn’t reply straight away. I needed to come up with something sophisticated or witty to say, but I couldn’t think past the blood rushing to my face and my stomach attempting to migrate to my throat.

It wasn’t until late that evening that I thought of something to say.

“Thank you, I must say I feel quite #proud” I replied.

It wasn’t my best work but if I waited too long he would know I had spent time carefully considering my reply. Which I had, but I didn’t want him to think I was the besotted loser I was in real life. As it was, I worried that the few hours between the like and the comment was already telling. I shouldn’t have replied at all, I never usually do to my comments. But it was too late. It was out there.

He had already replied. Just a string of emojis, smiles and kissy faces and hearts.

Agatha texted me one day out of the blue, inviting me to a party at her house. She had just won some university horse jumping championship and was celebrating it this weekend. I told her I’d think about it. I wasn’t really a party person.

I met up with Dev later that day and he mentioned that he was attending Agatha’s party and he invited me too. I reluctantly gave in to his pestering and said that I would go. It was harder to say maybe when the person was right there in front of you and not pulling the punches. We made plans to meet up and go together, Dev’s insurance policy that I would actually show.

The weekend rolled around way too quickly, and before I knew it I was standing in front of Agatha’s front door in the drizzling rain, music thumping through the wood and colourful lights spilling from the cracks in the curtains. I wanted to turn and walk away, but Dev had already opened the door and was tugging me along by my jacket sleeve.

Despite not wanting to be here, I had made an effort tonight. I was wearing my favourite pair of jeans, the dark grey ones that hugged my legs and backside without being restrictive or tight around my crotch like so many skinny jeans were. My shirt was a few shades lighter, and unbuttoned at the top. I rolled my sleeves up as soon as I threw my jacket onto the bed of the guest room, revealing my inked forearms.

I stopped off in the bathroom on the way back to the main party area. My hair was starting to frizz from the rain so I fished a hair band from my pocket and scooped it up into a messy bun. A couple of strands fell either side of my face where they weren’t long enough to be held but I had no clips for those so they would have to stay. My eyeliner was also a little smudged but that was quickly fixed with some water and tissue.

Following the sound of raucous laughter, I found my way to the kitchen. There were a number of bottles and unused cups on the side. I mixed myself a vodka lemonade in a red solo cup. I had no idea where these came from or why they were such a party staple. It all seemed horribly American to me but at least they held a lot of liquid.

I had yet to see the woman of the hour, so I went for a walk to find her, or anyone else I might know. I briefly chatted with Philippa in the hall, but it was stilted as we had only met each other that one time. I saw Niall’s head disappear round a corner at one point too, but it was too crowded for me to follow. Eventually I asked a girl I vaguely recognised from the social club, who turned out to be Agatha’s best friend Minty, if she knew where Agatha was. She pointed me down the basement steps.

There was a whole other party going on down here it seemed, with different music playing and all. The playlist was much better than the one upstairs, and not as loud in the smaller space. I saw Agatha’s golden head near the back wall. She was talking to a shorter woman I didn’t recognise, her hair a shocking red and piled in a mass of curls on top of her head. And with them was…

Simon.

I blinked rapidly. It must be really dark or something, I thought. There was no way he was here. Except then he laughed, the same laugh that followed me into my dreams, and there was no mistaking him. We had exchanged a number of comments on each of our respective Instagram posts since that first one, each a little flirty.

I was about to walk right back out when Agatha turned and saw me.

“Baz!” she shouted, waving me over. I slowly pressed my way over to her, mindful of elbows flying towards my drink. I swallowed convulsively as I stepped up. I avoided looking at his face, instead focusing on Agatha.

“Congratulations,” I saluted her with my cup. She smiled brightly.

“Thanks!”

She sloppily hugged me, clearly more than a little drunk as we’re not that affectionate with each other, both from a stiff-lipped upper class families.

“This is Penny,” she continued, gesturing to the woman beside her. “Penny this is Baz, from my parents club.”

“Hi,” Penny returned, smiling softly. She was swaying to the beat of the music, her eyes a little glassy.

“And this,” Agatha said significantly, pushing my shoulder so that I was facing him head on. “this is Simon Snow.”

Simon was staring at me, mouth agape. I wasn’t much better. I don’t think my eyes could get any wider if I tried. Still I was the first to recover my senses and hold out my hand.

“Simon,” I said lowly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

His grip was sure in mine, firm enough that I could feel the sword callouses along the palm and thumb. His hand was so warm.

“Y-yeah,” he breathed. “Good to see you.”

We held on a little longer than necessary, but I didn’t want to let go. Agatha cleared her throat though, and we reluctantly parted. His hand roughly dragged along the length of my, sending electricity sparking up my arm. I was still staring.

“Right,” Agatha muttered. “Come on Penny, let’s get another drink.”  
She dragged Penny away by the arm, and in my periphery I could see her limply following along.

“I really like your Insta,” Simon said, leaning in so I could hear him.

“It’s not as cool as yours,” I deflected, butterflies starting a riot in my abdomen. He shook his head in amusement, opening his mouth as if to say something, but the track suddenly changed to a faster song. I could see the recognition sparking in his eyes.

“I love this song!” He shouted excitedly. His grin was more infectious in person than in his videos. I was helpless against it. Suddenly he was gripping my wrist and pulling me away from the wall.

“Come on!” he insisted. “Let’s dance.”

We found a small bubble of space and started bopping along to the beat. It became rapidly apparent that Simon was a terrible dancer, but what he lacked in talent and rhythm he made up for in enthusiasm. He started to sing along to the chorus.

He was jubilant, he was incandescent, he was _real._

I lost myself in the moment, surrounded by strangers I would likely never see again, and let myself get caught up in this boy. It was another few songs before we took a break. In order not to lose him in the crowd, I took Simon’s hand once more in mine and dragged him up to the kitchen for another drink.

There was room on one of the sofas in the living room, but not quite enough for two men. We tried to fit anyway. With much manoeuvring, Simon ended up squashed firmly up against the arm rest, which was too thin to sit on itself comfortably, his legs casually sprawled over mine, my arm draped over the back of the chair behind him.

“So,” I started. “How did you get into sword pictures?”

He explained to me how his father, who had been missing for most of his childhood, had tried to buy his affections by giving him a sword for his fifteenth birthday and it had quickly devolved from there. Penny from earlier had gotten a camera a couple of Christmases ago, and had snapped Simon practising with his sword in the garden. She asked him to model for her after that and his Instagram started to develop a following.

The conversation carried on from there. I explained to him how I got into makeup, which devolved into a rant about my father and how much he hated it. We switched track to less heavy topics, films and books and our degrees. He was doing Primary Education, which I could see he was passionate about. I told him I was studying Applied Psychology and we ended up having a deep conversation about mental health. He had more than his fair share of experience in that area too, and we pressed closer as we whispered about our childhoods in this room filled with people. My hand had made its way to the nape of his neck.

“Baz,” he breathed. I felt it passing over my lips, realising just how close we had drifted. I wasn’t drunk, I had only had the two drinks, but my head started to spin. I wanted to kiss him, to eliminate this gap between us. To finally taste him, this man I had daydreamed about for months.

Then _he_ kissed _me._

His lips were sweet and sticky and so warm. I twisted my shoulders a little so I could deepen the kiss. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right, but his hand came up to the base of my skull and pushed me closer still, so I couldn’t have been doing to terribly. His chin started moving and, oh. It was heaven.

I moaned into the kiss, sucking his upper lip into my mouth. He pulled my hair down from its shabby bun, hooking the band over his wrist and threading his hands through the now loose strands, massaging my scalp. I returned the favour, tugging on the curls I had wanted to touch since I first saw them catch the sunshine. They were somehow soft and coarse, springing against my palms as I crushed them to his skull.

After an indeterminable amount of time, we slowly parted. I rested my forehead against his, my lips swollen and no doubt shiny, mirroring his in a smile.

“Wanna go out some time?” He murmured.

“Yes,” I whispered, before recapturing his lips.

_Three months later_

“Baz!” Simon yelped. He was such a baby.

“You wanted my help now sit still. This won’t hurt if you don’t fidget,” I reprimanded him. I softened though slightly at his pout. “We’re nearly done.”

I once again bring the eyeliner pencil to his eye, carefully filling in the line of his lid. He was nearly done. Our first date had been brunch at a café the day after the party, neither of us wanting to wait longer than necessary. I hadn’t been the only one pining over Instagram photos, though I had a slight head start on him.

Today we were doing our first couple photo shoot, and we had decided it would be cute for me to do his makeup and he would let me hold his sword. (I made many innuendos about that, some of which led to some unforgettable encounters. I still had nothing on Philippa but I could definitely join in the conversation now). I hadn’t counted on him being such a wuss about a little pencil. It was hard enough to get the lashes on him, I just wanted to neaten up the line the glue had smudged.

He was starting to get twitchy. I don’t think he had ever sat down for such a long stretch of time without eating or being asleep.

Once I was done, we made our way out to the nearby park. It had a lovely bandstand which would be the main stage for our shoot. Penny was hilarious with her directions, which would have been vaguely professional if it weren’t for the insults and swearing. I had really gotten to like her over the months Simon and I had been dating. She was smart and funny in a dry way.

She refused to let us look at the photos once we were done. According to Simon this was normal, because she liked to do little retouches before she showed him the finished product.

It was worth the wait. They were gorgeous.

We posted them on both our pages with the tag #SnowBaz.

The candid of us kissing, the sun shining through the gap under our chins looking a little bit like a heart, was the most liked photo I had ever posted. I had it blown up on a canvas.

That night I told him I loved him.

My beautiful sunshine boyfriend.


End file.
